the sky held the sun in one hand,
and cradled the moon in the other —
in those moments before dusk,
everything glistened and glowed.

maybe our differences,
our opposite personalities,
like the moon and the sun,
made what we had beautiful.



Today I found something I scribbled in a notebook maybe a year ago. I’m not the biggest fan of the end, but thought I’d share:

because you linger in my mind like an autumn leaf clinging with childlike fingers to a tawny spine, or a memory, whose thought it so sublime and whips, that I’m afraid it will flutter passively away on the slightest of blustery fall afternoons // so if you would just let me rest in your shadow, in the cap of an acorn, blanketed in the morning fog and cobwebs, until the next breeze, take it all in, do as we please.



Judas betrayed Jesus.
Jesus knew Judas would betray him.
Yet Jesus accepted Judas regardless.

Don’t let a person’s betrayal or rejection keep you from loving that person well.

Just as Jesus’ love was unconditional, we too must strive for our love to have no bounds.

It’s far better to be known for a gentle, unrelenting love rather versus a cautious, self-preserving spirit.




You are worth more than cancelled plans, insincere invites and bad friends.

It’s okay to have standards for the way people treat you — just because someone says they love and appreciate you, it doesn’t mean they actually show it in their actions.
It’s okay to have self-respect.
It’s okay to not settle for less.
It’s okay to end things that continually affect you negatively, even if you’ve invested in them emotionally.
Remember that you are not a doormat.
Remember that you are lovable.
Remember that people think highly of you.
Think of all of the people who genuinely love you.
Think of the good things you do for people — how you support and encourage others.
Think of ways you can continue to become a better person.

Know you are a person worthy of being loved well.

You deserve new shoes, a fancy pen, and phenomenal love.

Don’t sell yourself short.



I have tried.
I have tried with everything I’ve got to keep you hanging by your decaying stem on my branches that are slowly becoming bare. But you keep swaying. And it gets tiring extending energy to things that don’t want to stay – well, aren’t meant to stay.

And I’m sorry.
I’m sorry my branches aren’t always stable and that sometimes being attached to them feels more like rollercoaster ride than it should. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. And I’m sorry that, once my presence was no longer a convenience but a hindrance, you decided you no longer needed my help or company.

But we will both grow.

Because, in all cycles, loss is necessary.

Because your fallen frame will eventually decompose and new life stem from your skeleton veins.

And because, although trees lose their leaves every winter, they will always reacquire more come spring.